The Tragedy of Love
by TwilightxVampire
Summary: When Ami looses her soon to be husband her world is turned upside down. When she learns to open up her heart again she discovers the awful truth about the man she is now dating. What will happen next? A Story full of suspence, Love, tragedy and strength.
1. Chapter 1

Enjoy this is my 1st Fan Fiction posted on Fan -  
Ami looked into the three-way mirror at her bridal gown, which had just come in. With the high waistline and pearl-encrusted bodice, she looked like a medieval princes in it.  
"I love it!" Serena said.  
Ami turned and smiled at her,"And I think you look lovely yourself." Serena was trying on her bridesmaid's dress, an empire gown in pale blue that went beautifully with her eyes. Zoisite asked Darien to be his best man, as well as the father of the bride. Although Darien was only a close friend to Ami, he had helped her overcome many things and took the brotherly role for Ami when her father had left her many years ago. Serena grinned and twirled around in her dress.  
"I have been blessed with two lovely daughters." from a chair beside the mirror, Ami's mother beamed at them. Serena was only a friend but sometimes Ms. Anderson thought of her as a second-daughter, always being so close to Ami in her childhood and helping her mature into the woman she is today.  
Ami felt an overwhelming love for her mother and friend. All their old arguments have died. She was going to marry Zoisite, and they'd have a family of their own. Her mother would be a dotting grandmother, and Serena a proud aunt. Everything was going to be all right from now on.

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Later that day Ami, her mother, and Serena walked into the backdoor of her home in Arlington, carrying the large gold and white boxes that held their wedding finery. Ami had been living back at home for the past month in order to carry out the wedding preparations. She and Zoisite would marry at St. John's in Croftown, where her grandparents and parents had been married, and a small reception would be held back at the Manor.

As soon as they entered the house, Ami realized it wasn't empty. They put down the boxes and entered the living room. A large man with heavy jowls was talking to another man in the living room. Ami's mother froze in her steps. "Mr Hoover"  
Then Ami recognized him. He was K. Edgar Hoover, the head of the FBI.  
"Yes, Ms. Anderson, I'm so sorry but I thought it best we wait here for your daughter & her friend"  
Serena looked back and forth between her friend and the tall man with long gray hair.  
"What's happened?" Serena asked, advancing forward to Mr. Hoover. The older man paused a moment, clearly unhappy to speak. He looked sorrowfully at Serena.  
"I'm very sorry, Serena, but we lost Darien this afternoon"  
Ms. Anderson moaned.  
Darien was also Serena's husband as well as Ami's friend. In fact their relationship was the reason Ami meet the man in the first place.  
"L-Lost him?" Serena echoed.  
"He was working the Delaware investigation of that radical group, and it literally blew up in our faces. He was killed instantly, an explosion"  
Serena went white. Wordlessly she sagged against Ami, who helped her onto the nearby sofa.  
"I can't tell you how sorry I am," he said. "Darien Shields was one of my best men and a good friend. I'm so sorry, Serena"  
Ms. Anderson hurried over to Serena and sat down beside her.  
Ami stood in the doorway between the dining and living rooms, unable to move or speak.  
The other man, a stranger, cleared his trout and nodded toward her. Mr. Hoover turned to her and looked even more forbidding."And you're Ami, aren't you"  
She nodded, mute.  
"I'm afraid Zoisite was working the same case"  
"What happened?" Ami whispered, though she was already tightening up inside, already realizing what the man might say.  
"Dane was killed, also. I'm so very sorry. I know you were his fiancee. We're all so very sorry"  
Ami's head swam in a rush of disorienting emotion. She put a hand out to catch herself, but she couldn't find the wall. Strong hands pulled her forward and urging her down into an armchair.  
"My wedding dress just came from New York" Ami said, as if these words would work some magic, change what had happened. "We just picked up our dresses" she leaned back, unable to halt the chill washing through her. The bright sunny day was suddenly cast into alternating shadow and bleak light.  
-It isn't true. There's been a mistake. We're going to be married next Saturday. I have my dress, and everything is planned.-

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How'd you like the fist Chpt. Review Please! 


	2. Chapter 2

2nd Chapter -Yay- Okaii. . . I Dunno if she even has a name but I'm giving Ami's mother the name of Bette. Thank you and please continue reading & since her grandmother was never mentioned in the anime story line Ami will prob. just refer to her as "Grandma" or something. And I Might not even put her in this.

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-------March 1972-  
"Serena is staying at the Manor" Bette said,"You should stay here too"  
Ami glanced at her mother, whose face had aged a decade over the past few days. The death of her Zoisite & dear friend Darien weighed a toll on everyone they knew. Serena needed as many people as possible to comfort her. And who or what did Ami need herself. With the loss of Darien and Zoisite, a gaping rent had been opened up inside her heart. She felt empty, broken, bereft of hope. Who would comfort her?  
Ami felt cheated. -I didn't even get to marry Zoisite. If it had only been Zoisite who'd been killed, I would be the only one receiving comfort.- And then she felt guilty for being so self-centered. And it was, since she had only lost her fiance, she felt as though she should be the one comforting Serena. But she had no comfort in her to give.  
"No one from Zoisite's family came" Bette went on, sounding like a radio turned on low. "I can't believe he didn't have any family"  
"Zoisite broke with his family years ago" Serena explained.  
Ami closed her eyes, trying to block out the one conversation she and Zoisite had shared that had touched on his family. He hadn't wanted to invite any of them to his wedding, and none of them had come to his funeral. Or maybe they had attended. There had been a few strangers at the funeral, but maybe they'd just been FBI colleagues whom Ami had never met.  
Zoisite's and her wedding day was only five days away now. -But I'm not getting married. Zoisite isn't coming back-  
Ami felt as if she'd slipped out of her skin. She was raw and defenseless. Her love for Zoisite pulsed inside her like an aching of her very soul. Would anything ever be right again? She'd lost so many people- Mina to drugs, Rei to Jadeite, her father, Darien and now her own love. How did a person who had lost almost everyone she loved find a reason to go on.

-----May 1972------

Ami still felt ripped open inside, and her mother seemed unusually quiet. The phrase "Walking wounded" was a perfect description of how Ami felt.  
Every morning when Ami awake, she tried to come up with a destination, a goal that would give her a purpose, a reason to move forward. But every morning she came up with no answer. She knew there had to be one. She couldn't just stop living because Zoisite was gone. Now, she walked beside Bette, she wondered if she could use this private time with her mother to make some sense of what her future could, should be. If anyone had answers it would be her wize, loving mother.  
Unable to get up the energy to behind this kind of discussion, Ami let herself drink in the warmth of the sunny day, the scent of mown grass that permeated the air.  
'It's hard to believe that dreadful George Wallace us speaking in Maryland today," her grandmother commented in a faraway voice.  
Ami made a sound of acknowledgment. Bette didn't like Wallace, and it was far too beautiful a day for racist rally. Cocooned from the world, Ami was vaguely aware that another presidential race was in full swing, with Hubert Humphery and George McGovern fighting against Nixon, the incumbent. As a third-party candidate, George Wallace was campaigning on state's rights and white supremacy all over the South. Peace talks over Viet Nam had also begun in Paris. But all of that strife and striving was a world away from the soft breezes laden with the fragrance of late lilacs, lacy boughs of bridal wreath and periodic bouts of tears. Losing Zoisite filled Ami with emptiness, a weepiness she'd never imagined, never known before in her life. -And I'm only twenty five.- That wasn't a pleasant thought. What else might she be expected to endure? She looked up gazing at the blue sky though the chartreuse leaves on the trees. Everything around her was fresh in blossom, and yet she felt frozen in the dead of winter.  
The ache inside her was relentless, an all-consuming vacuum. "Will I ever feel normal again?" the words flowed out from deep inside Ami before she'd realize she was ready to speak.  
Bette kept walking, but glanced at Ami. "I asked myself the same thing every morning. I grieve over losing your father. I grieve over Serena losing Darien and your losing Zoisite. All our grief's are multiplied"  
"Sometimes I find it hard to breathe," Ami admitted.  
Her mother nodded, "When your father left when you where younger. I had that same feeling"  
Ami wanted to say, "Its not fair. You had Thirty years together." but of course, she couldn't What did it matter? Would she have loved Zoisite more if they'd had more years? That didn't seem possible.  
Bette reached over and patted Ami's arm. "I don't know how, but we all will heal. No one can avoid mourning, but somehow it does end at last. It's best just to accept that the sorrow will work its way through us like a horrible virus that must run its course"  
"What do we do until then?" Ami lowered her voice. What would take away this raw sorrow?  
"We go on living- keep busy and comfort one another. That is what all this tragedy taught me"  
Bette turned and gave her another of her sweet, loving smiles that warmed Ami from her head to her toes."I love you hunny"  
"I love you, too, mom" -I do. I always will.  
Ami pondered her mothers words and in her mind she heard Zoisite again; "You're the Joan of Arc. The crusader who wants to change the world." Tears slipped down her cheeks. She tried to hide them, not wishing to trigger more weeping in her mother. -Zoisite, I didn't want to save the world. I just wanted us to have a life together. Where do i go from here? When will this awful emptiness be filled?

Later when they returned, Serena met them at the backdoor. From the look on her face, Ami felt a tingle of dread."What's happened"  
"It just came on the news"  
"Not another assassination?" Ami's mother asked.  
Serena shook her head. "Well it would have been if the man had succeeded. George Wallace has been shot during a rally at Laurel,Maryland. They think he's paralyzed"  
"Well" Bette said wiping her muddy shoes on the rough mat. "I have his politics, but that doesn't mean I wanted someone to shoot him. When will this end"  
Ami felt the same shock. In the years from 1963 - 1972 JFK, his brother Robert, Dr. King- all had been cut down by lesser men. How many politicians had to be killed before this terrible scourge stopped.  
"Ami, you got a phone call when you were out."Serena handed her a slip of paper.  
"From who?" Ami looked down at the phone number and name.  
"Someone in the Maryland Democratic Party. She asked you to please call her back. It's Important, She said."

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YAY! This Chpt. is FINALLYY done. DONT worry I will add mroe adventure & romance in the next chpt. Just hold outt!! 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3! Okayy I promised I'd have something actually happen in this chpt instead of the depressing stuff I have in the last two. . . Just hold out for me this story WILL improve from here

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---June 1972---

Ami sat in a row of maroon, banquet-style chairs in the back of a meeting in the McGovern for President headquarters in a Democratic pre- 1972 convention meeting. People milled around the aisles. She'd been asked to take the place of the original woman delegate, who'd died suddenly in an auto accident. They'd needed a woman to fill Maryland's quota of women delegates and she'd been chosen. Grief made it hard to sit in her chair and not get up and pace. But she was afraid that if she got up, she'd leave. And it had been hard enough to make herself come.  
When she looked toward the front of the room, she realized that the man who was chairing the meeting appeared to be gazing at her steadily. Avoiding his eyes, she scanned the large room. In the weeks at the Manor after Zoisite's death, she'd been asking the universe for something strong enough to make her want to get up in the morning and change out of her nightgown. And then the day George Wallace had been wounded, she'd been asked to serve as Maryland Democratic Party delegate and go to Miami in August. She'd also been invited to visit booth the Humphry and McGovern campaign centers. Perhaps this was her answer.  
This wasn't anything like the closed and secretive sessions she'd heard of in previous election years. She glanced at the front once more and found the man still looking in her direction, although he was speaking to a large, gray haired matron on his right. Who was he?  
Then the chairman stopped his conversation and faced the microphone, asking for volunteers for a subcommittee on the pro-peace plan.

Ami lacked the energy to raise her hand. Wasn't it enough that she was here? She felt like an imposer. She expected someone to walk up to her at any moment and demand, "Who let you in"  
A young woman sat next to her, a brunette with long wavy hair who wore bell-bottom jeans and a jersey-knit blouse in a wild yellow- and green print. She leaned forward to read Ami's identifying badge. "You're from Maryland?"

"Yes." Ami replied uneasily.

"I'm Lita Hollister." The woman offered Ami her hand. "I'm a delegate from New York."

Ami returned the handshake, glad to have someone cheerful to talk to.  
"It's unbelievable being here, isn't it?" Lita asked.

"Yes." at least someone else who felt a little like Ami did. This was an exciting opportunity, but still grieving, she just couldn't generate any strong emotion.

"Some men still don't like women having access to power. They call our influence the 'Nylon Revolution.' " Lita snorted.

"Personally, I'm not going to wear pantyhose to any party meeting or function. I think pantyhose- or worse girdles and garter belts- should be relegated to the past along with corsets."

Ami, who was wearing pantyhose under her powder blue miniskirt, was in the minority. She'd already noticed almost everyone, male and female, was wearing jeans or polyester slacks. Pantsuits for women had revolutionized fashion. She looked down at her legs. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey," Lita conceded as if she'd just noticed Ami's pantyhose, "If you like skirts, do your own thing. If I had legs like yours, maybe I'd wear skirts too."

This made Ami almost grin, just as the chairman asked one last time for volunteers for the pro-peace committee. Then Lita surprised her. She raised her own hand and at the same time lifter Ami's. "Hey, we might as well jump in with both feet!" she exclaimed.

Ami lacked the will even to object.  
Their hands were acknowledged, and Ami let Lita draw her to the back of the room to meet the other delegates on the committee. The man who'd been watching her from the front of the room left the platform and walked toward them, his eyes on Ami.

Later after buying lunch at the campaign headquarters, Ami, along with the other delegates and volunteers, walked outside the McGovern headquarters in Washington DC and paused at the corner of 19th and K. The campaign workers were all picnicking on the grassy slope nearby .  
"So what do you think of McGovern's idea of giving everyone in America a thousand dollars?" Greg Kinnard, the man who'd been stairing at her earlier asked Ami. Greg was older then she and did not wear denim or polyester bell bottoms but a crisp, summer-weight suit in light tan. His wide tie was salmon pink, and his brown hair had just a touch of gray at the temples and was just long enough to give him a raffish air. Altogether he was a polished, expensive package.  
Holding a white plastic plate of quiche in one hand and a green bottle of Coke in the other, Ami concentrated on finding a place to sit. She'd purposefully not replied to anything Greg had said to her or in her direction so far. She wasn't in the mood to be charmed.

"Still not talking?" He grinned at her. "You know, you're the most beautiful Democrat at the meetings- does that mean you can't be bothered talking to the Hoi Polloi?"

She gave him a sharp glance."I'm always wary of men who are as suave as you are."

"I'm crushed. My hopes dashed," he teased.

She grimaced, knowing she was being borderline rude. Still, she couldn't drop into easy conversation. Silently she walked to a place on the grass and sat down modestly in her miniskirt.  
"I don't remember seeing you," he proceeded undaunted, "at any of the Democratic fundraiser's or McGovern rallies."

"I've been busy with family business this year."

"Then how did you become a delegate?" he asked, sounding sincere for the first time.

"I'm a replacement." she closed her eyes for a moment wishing him away. She didn't want to feel attractive, desirable.

"I see. Have you heard about the break-in a few days ago?"

"What break in?" she asked automatically.

"It happened on the 18th. Five people broke into the Watergate Hotel- into the Democratic National Committee suite."

"Some radical group?" memories of what happened to Darien and Zoisite when they'd investigated one of these groups stole what appetite she had.

"Three Cubans, a Miami businessman and a former CIA security specialist."

"what a strange group." She put her fork down and sipped her cold Coke.

"They've all been charged with breaking and entering. Some people think they were acting for the Republican Party."

"I have a hard time believing that."

Greg shrugged. "All's fair in love, war and politics. What are you doing tonight"  
His casual, unexpected question ripped her wide open. Hurting she looked away and acted as if she hadn't heard him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She scrambled, trying to come up with something to distract him. "Do you think any of this will do any good?" she waved her hand at the other delegates all eating al fresco on the grassy slope.

"What do you mean?"

"Meetings. Platform committees. Politics. After the last convention. . . ." her voice trailed off.

"We do this sort of thing every four years at the Constitution says we must."

His glib reply grated on her nerves. All she wanted to do was get away from this easy-talking man, away from this sunny slope overlooking Lafayette Park. So she did just that. With a mumbled excuse to the others around her, she escaped Greg and fled back to the Willard where she was staying. When she picked up her key, the desk clerk gave her a letter that had been forwarded to her. It was from Rei.  
She entered the elevator and opened it as she began to rise. After reading the first paragraph, she found herself leaning against the back wall of the compartment, tears again streaming down her face.

----July 1972--

After doing her part on the Democratic Platform meetings, Ami had been asked to campaign for McGovern in a series of town hall meetings as an example of the new woman Democrat. On this night, Ami had come to participate in one in an auditorium in a suburb of Baltimore. She'd never appeared in a public panel before and now she knew why. She didn't have butterflies in her stomach, she had elephants. And they were all doing the Cha-Cha. She sat at a long table and resisted the urge to fidget.  
At first she'd put off the decided about weather or not to participate or not. She;d made no bones about her lack of enthusiasm for all 3 presidential candidates- Humphrey vs McGovern and both of them against Nixon. But the party still wanted her to take part in these meetings. So she'd given in and agreed. It was something to do, something that might at least, help others decided who to vote for. And maybe, somehow, by taking part she'd begin to feel alive again.  
Everyone stood as the national anthem was played.

After the meeting with all the stupid questions from the local John Does ended. Delaying his departure, Greg finally managed to escort Ami out to her Nova. So far he'd not scored one point with the most gorgeous Democrat in the U.S. What was going on behind those beautiful but sad sapphire eyes? They told him that she was on the rebound, which could work to his favor if he could get on her good side. Easy. He was good at that. he'd just have to play this a little more subtly than he had been.

"Go to a late supper with me?" he offered, trying not to sound as if this meant anything like a date. Women on the rebound didn't to date.

"I'm driving to my grandmother's house-"

-Oh, ho, little Red Riding Hood.- "But surely you have to eat," he said, trying to sound sympathetic. Heck, at forty,, he was a little young for the role, but he'd even attempt fatherly if that would do the trick.  
Ami looked at him. Sudden tears moistened her big sapphire blue eyes. She blinked, trying to hide them from him.

"Why are you sad all the time?" Greg asked in the softest and most caring voice he could manage. "Don't you think it might help to talk about it?"

In the empty parking lot, Ami burst into Tears. Greg gathered her into his arms, making sure that he kept the embrace comforting, not sensual. "Let it out. Let it all out. I can take it." Dear Abby would be proud of him.

"I just lost my fiance,"She said, her tears subsiding. "I'm sorry. It's just-"

"Its hard, I know." What jerk would leave this luscious armful behind? Well, one man's stupidity could be this man's luck. Over the past few weeks, this young woman had lingered in his mind, not just because of her beauty, but because she had something. She made him want to be near her for a long time, a very long time. Meeting her had made him finally realize that he needed someone who'd commit to a longer term relationship. He was tired of one-night stands and casual affairs. And of women who were on the prowl just like him. What he wanted was right here in his arms- a beautiful woman who projected a delicious tempting innocence.

They'd share a relaxing supper at a homey little cafe. That had been just the right setting for Ami to begin to open up to him. He'd felt a flicker of sympathy when she'd revealed that she wasn't suffering from a broken heart but from her fiance's death. That was heavy, bit it also would work for him. She didn't know it, but she was looking to replace what she'd lost- a wedding night. And he was more then willing to supply- if not the wedding- the night, and much more. he wouldn't be stingy with his time or his money. Ami was luxury class all the way and that's how he'd treat her. But first he had to help her fall from grace and into his waiting arms.  
Aware of her naive idealism, he'd spent the evening convincing her that he was deeply concerned about America and impressed by influence, agreeable to his pragmatic enthusiasm for mower and money. He'd kept that to himself. Feeling as if he'd made good progress, Greg walked her to her Nova once more.

"I'm sorry to be such poor company," she murmured.

Greg put his arm around her in a comforting gesture, again calculatingly devoid of sensuality. "You? Poor company? Never. You've been through hell."

She sighed with obvious fatigue.

"I don't like you driving home alone at night," he said. "Why don't you stay at a hotel?" she stopped himself from saying - "With me?" -Patience. Patience.-

"The Manor isn't far just around twenty-five miles." she unlocked the door of her Nova and then turned back to him. "Thanks. I enjoyed your company."

"I'm glad." -Someday soon you'll enjoy something much more exciting then just my company.- He lifted her chin with his hand. "You'll survive this, you know. You're a strong woman."

She blushed. "Thanks."

He gave her a light, fatherly kiss on her cheek. And wondered how soon he'd be able to kiss her deeply with all the passion she ignited in him. "I'll see you in 3 days then"

She nodded and got in. She smiled and buckled up before starting the car and driving away. He waved until she was out of sight.  
An image of her lying in his arms, her midnight blue hair flowing over his skin, floated through his mind and his breath caught her throat. He would be the envy of every man when she was his. And it wouldn't take long. He'd overcome the strong scruples he sensed she still possessed- even though the sexual revolution had changed the social landscape. It was kind of cute that she still hadn't had much experience with passion. And maybe that would bind her to him for that long "long, long time." he breathed in deeply. So much to look forward to. She would be his. He'd just chipped out the first chink in her armor.

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